


Good pet

by Zenniet



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Dry Humping, Fisting, Master/Pet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Reader-Insert, Scent Kink, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Human reader helps G1 Hound with his heat||Requested from tumblr||





	Good pet

He’s a good boy. He’s  _ your _ good boy. It doesn’t matter if he’s not from this planet and all he wants to do is explore and see things and have a good time, that might actually be one of the reasons why you love him so much.

You weren’t all that surprised to find out that Cybertronians go through heat cycles. You didn’t expect them to be all that similar to humans anyways. Although you never prepared for such a case, you didn’t have a hard time taking it in stride.

He was mass displaced as much as he could just to fit into your bedroom, and you still had to keep him on the floor instead of the bed that was far too small for him. You’ve interfaced with him before, but it was always quick. You never had to worry about hiding him away because you knew that you could probably find somewhere that people don’t come around too often. This, though, you anticipated to take far longer than usual.

When you’d found him, he was already in your room and mass displaced, desperately grinding his valve down onto a pillow. One of his servos was pressed down into the part of the pillow that was in front of him. His other servo was grasping the pillow that you usually slept on, held to his face as he took in your scent. Even when he spotted you entering the room and closing and locking the door behind you, he didn’t stop his movement. He did, though, put the pillow back on your bed with an almost guilty look on his face.

He stopped moving as you walked up to him and he leaned down so you could cup your hand against his face. You press your lips to his and he kisses back eagerly, a little squeak in his vocalizer. Without breaking the kiss, you reach to your side for your bedside dresser and pull out his collar from the drawer. You wrap the heavy leather around his neck and clip it shut, he lets out a moan in response.

“You want to be good for me?” You pull back and ask. He nods enthusiastically enough that you hear the little ring on the front of his collar jingle as it knocks against the metal mount it’s on. You watch as he dismounts the pillow and sits down in front of you.

You really couldn’t trace back time to the beginning of your relationship. You had always been friends, ever since you’d found him, but you couldn’t tell when you’d gotten romantically involved. Whatever chain of events had happened to cause this, you were glad for it.

As it was, he was sitting back on the floor, propping himself up on his elbows, legs spread and bent for you to have full access to his array. Spike and valve were both on display for you, both dripping lubricant already. His valve was soaking wet and making a mess that you pushed to the back of your mind.

His engine hiccuped as your fingertips barely ghosted across his valve. He let out a whine and you glanced up, away from the dripping masterpiece before you, to see your lovely bot catching his bottom lip between his denta. 

“So good for me,” You hum, drawing a whine from his vocalizer. It takes your whole hand to span his valve. You rub your fingertips around his pulsing anterior node and make him writhe under you. Your hand comes up to rest on his leg, wordlessly telling him to keep still. It takes him a moment, but he calms himself down enough to remain relatively still under your scrutiny.

“And so very obedient.” You lean down and kiss the head of his spike. Your hand leaves his leg and wraps as far as it can around his spike. Hound rolls his hips in short, almost restricted movements. His vocalizer lets out little sobs as you can practically feel his charge in the air around you.

You finally let your fingers push into his valve. Just two, it wouldn’t usually be much for him, but today it has him breaking down into a shuddering mess as he crashes into his first overload, spike streaking his front with transfluid and valve dripping even more onto the floor. 

His voice left his vocalizer in little, hiccuping, almost sobbing sounds as his body already surged and crackled with too much charge and over-sensitivity, but something about all of this told you that was still enjoying it. Under your masterful touch, you know that you can work him to many more overloads. You’ve learned enough in your time with him to have knowledge on how to get him crying out in pleasure, and you fully intend to make use of it.

Your other hand gently strokes his belly as you continue to work your fingers in his valve. The lubricant coats your hand and drips out onto the floor, adding to the shining, silvery pink puddle beneath him. His face is as hot as his frame, his vent system working overtime to try to calm the burn that spread across him from the moment you stepped into the room.

“So good,” You hum, “And so  _ expressive _ .” Before, you had encouraged him to make noise when he felt good, and since then he hadn’t been muffling any moans with his servos or chewing on his lip to keep himself quiet, opting instead to let you hear his little, sharp moans and gasping invents and you  _ loved _ it. Even when he takes the role of your pet and he can’t talk, he still lets you know what feels good.

A couple strokes along his spike and he was crying out in another overload already. His hips lifted and thrust up off of the floor, transfluid arcing up and splattering across his front, thoroughly dirtying him. His body shook as it coursed with charge, and even as his overload waned he still trembled and let out soft, breathy moans without any stimulation. You almost wished you could gag him, just to see what he would do with that.

One hand remained wrapped around Hound’s spike, your fingertips not managing to touch, while the other one toyed with his valve. You push in two fingers, as you had done before, and stroke them along the walls of his valve. You quickly add a third, his channel taking it easily. The fourth is a little harder, but when you slip in your finger he lets out the most adorable wail, but still no overload. Good.

The next step you take is easing your knuckle line into his valve, his vocalizer letting out a whine as you do. His chest heaves and he does his best not to squeeze down on your hand or move his legs too much, and he manages until you get in about halfway down your palm and he almost screams in a third overload. His optics glow almost white and his valve constricts around your hand and it takes all he has not to buck his hips. You barely give him any time to calm down before you continue to push in your hand.

“You’re so good for me, I know you can take it.” You tell him as you ease in past the point where your thumb meets your palm. You can very clearly see his valve’s outer ring stretching to take it. He could undo some of his mass displacement if he needed to, both of you know this. This wasn’t the first time you had done this with him either, you’d told him that he could tap out no matter what last time. All he had to do was tell you to stop and you would listen.

You’re admiring his trembling, sensitive frame when your hand is fully surrounded by his valve.

“Look at that,” You say, slowly plunging your hand deeper into his valve, “You took my whole hand and then some.” You pull your hand back a little, giving him some reprieve before pushing back in. 

His vocalizer lets out what sounds like a shriek when you find his ceiling node. The tips of your fingers rub and prod at it and you can almost feel the charge coursing through the air around you.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but only static and garbled words come out. Any words he may have wanted to say, or rather scream, melted and blended into a slurring mess. You can almost pick out a ‘please’ or ‘more’. 

He comes down from the overload with a hiccuping vocalizer and a quaking frame. You decide to stop, pulling your hand free from his valve, letting out a torrent of lubricant with it. You release his spike and step over to be closer to his helm where you can get a better view of him. Lips parted and chassis heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His optics meet your eyes where you sit next to him. You lean down and give him a quick kiss.

“How was that?” You ask. 

“Amazing,” He sighs. You hold out your hand and he eagerly nuzzles into it, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my at zenniet on tumblr!


End file.
